


Wouldn't It Be Nice?

by truebluemoon



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Beaches, F/F, Family Drama, Grief/Mourning, Strangers to Lovers, Wakes & Funerals, mermaid au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-29 13:25:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12631959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truebluemoon/pseuds/truebluemoon
Summary: Max Caulfield finally returns to the town she spent her earliest years for her mom's funeral. By the beach, she meets a kindred spirit.





	1. 3:34 PM

_“Don’t turn your back to the sea,” Mom told her. “The blue waves may be beautiful, but the tide is unforgiving when your attention strays.”_

 

As a wave splashed onto the shore, the sea spray filled the air with brine, and Max could feel the scent travel up her nostrils. With a seagull’s caw amongst the soft rumble of the ocean, it was all coming back. She could just see Mom by the beach, adjusting her sheer coverup and fussing over her giggling, wobbling little girl. The soft cadence of her voice was a ghost. It was faint and formless. Sometimes, she’d gently guide her away from the hermit crabs and sandcastles, and she’d glance up at the sky in wonder. Max followed her gaze. The sun would have been shining - but not _blinding_ like it was today.

The surrounding terrain was about the same, give or take some erosion here and there. The nearby buildings themselves with their candy-colored, chipped paint and textured wooden stairs still maintained their beach shack charm for the tourists. A few of the signs were different, of course. The economy had been hardest of all on the schlocky little tourist traps, and Mom and Pop stores didn’t have the pull they used to. But they cut off the gangrenous limbs to save the whole, exchanging one of the novelty shops for a mediocre chain restaurant and a local craftsman’s stand for a bored teenager selling the latest trend, and so the Arcadia Bay Marina chugged along as it always did.

She turned her attention from the attractions by the beach to the cluster of boats and shops less than a mile away, watching the image blur before focusing.

As she looked over the docks through her camera lens, it occurred to her how picturesque it was, even without the hazy filter of nostalgia. There were sharp curves of white and blue and (sometimes) brown boats docked by the geometric edges that separated the viewer from the waters some ten, twelve feet below. Set against the sapphire blue waters that seemed to shimmer from the sunlight’s reflection, she could picture herself renting out some large boat and spending her days on the sea. Or, more realistically, she could find herself somewhere permanent a little further inland and visit once or twice a year like most Arcadia Bay residents. Either way, the idea was tempting, in a at-the-end-of-her-rope kind of way. Arcadia Bay wasn’t Portland or Seattle, but it had its own charms.

She wondered why it took a funeral to bring her back.

Max closed her eyes and breathed in the nice sea air. She could only barely remember what her voice sounded like. How long until even that’s gone? She would just be a headstone engraved with the words “Here lies Vanessa Caulfield, loving wife and mother,” and the leftover pain of a family lost at sea without her.

She was going to put away her camera. She didn’t have the right shot. Her arms were getting sore. She’d been out here for an hour, maybe two, and, despite the awe-inspiring views, she just wasn’t feeling it. It was hard to put a finger on why. The drive down to Arcadia Bay was exhausting - not to mention the haphazard planning around it. Last minute hotel reservations, cancelling doctors’ appointments and job interviews, deciding what to pack and how appropriate it’d be to cuss out Aunt Katherine for not making up with her before she died. Dealing with the trip was one thing, but dealing with family was its own monster, one she forgot how to protect herself from. That wasn’t even getting into her pre-funeral nerves and trying to sort out the will.

Deciding it was better to give up and come back tomorrow, Max started lowering her camera.

That was when she spotted the figure on the horizon. It was so small she at first thought it to be nothing, but then it started to move. Part of the figure stuck out from the water before retreating back under, its overall form getting bigger and bigger. It was as if whatever it was was getting closer.

She steadied her camera as she looked into the lens once more, only to find nothing. The figure had disappeared entirely. Max frowned. Had she been seeing things?

She was distracted by a vibration at her left hip. With a sigh, she put her camera in her bag to check her phone, hoping that it wasn’t the hotel saying her credit card bounced.  She saw the name and grimaced, swiping to pick up the call. “Hi, Aunty, are the arrangements for the ceremony going alright?” She turned on the ledge towards the parking lot, back to the sea.

“We’re getting a lot done,” Aunt Linda assured her, in that saccharine voice of hers. “Thanks, by the way, for the flower arrangements. They’re lovely, darlin’. Kat likes them too, even if she won’t admit it.”

“It’s no problem,” Max said, and she meant it, especially when she was dealing with Linda Ward and not Katherine or their mother. Sometimes, though, even Linda seemed off, trying to force a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. “Really. Anything to help.”

“There is… one way you could help,” She seemed to hesitate, then, choosing her words carefully. “I had Dana set out the table place for your father, just in case you got him to attend. I only want to know whether he’s coming. It’s not like he RSVP’d.”

Max bit her lower lip. “I… talked to him. He said he’d go to the funeral.” It was half a lie, but halfway was still close enough to the truth. His exact words were, _“I’ll come pay my respects as soon as I can. Love you.”_

“Ah,” Linda let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. Since it put her at ease, Max figured it was the right thing to say. “Thank goodness.”

“You… don’t think it’ll be, I don’t know, awkward? Katherine and Dorothy hate his guts,” _and mine, too_. But that last part, even if unspoken, was obvious enough.

“Oh, darlin’,” Linda said in sympathy, not exactly putting Max at ease,  “You let me worry about Mama and Kat.”

“I’ll see you tomor-” Max started when,

just then, she felt water collide with her bare calves. She yelped, the phone nearly slipping from her grip. Max turned around, expecting a large wave to recede. Instead, the culprit was a girl nearly shoulders-deep in the shimmering blue. Her hair was blue too, but it was an unnatural blue, more like a cerulean, framing the jagged slopes of her face like she was a model for a box of hairdye.

“So, you’re not gonna say anything, little miss stalker?” The girl questioned with an amused smile, looking up at her boldly.

“I’m- wait, stalker?” Max clasped her bag’s shoulder strap. “I- I wasn’t stalking you. I don’t even know you.”

The girl cocked her head to the side, looking doubtful. “Oh, so it _wasn’t_ you creeping on me with that camera of yours?” She swam as if to demonstrate, forward then right then back and finally left. She moved effortlessly, as if she’d been swimming her whole life. Most people didn’t swim that well, certainly not Max’s friends from Seattle despite all the beaches. “Did you at least get a good picture for your scrapbook?”

“I’m sorry,” Max said, “I… I didn’t know you didn’t like people taking pictures of you.”

“Didn’t say that,” She replied, moving towards a rock and wrapping her arms around it to keep her steady. Her toned biceps flexed before relaxing against the surface. “Who’re you? I’ve been here a long time, and I _know_ I’d remember someone like you.”

“Someone like me?” Max repeated, suddenly finding it hard to draw breath.

“Pretty, artsy, but not snobby,” She said. Well, mystery girl wasn’t wrong: Max _was_ pretty artsy.

Max let out air she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “I’m Max. I used to live in Arcadia Bay, a long time ago.” She smiled and brushed back her bangs to rest behind her ear. She sat down on the edge of the small crag. “What about you?”

“Chloe. I’m always around here, from day to night, like any beach bum,” She said, waggling her brows. “So, what, how long’s it been? Were you one of those Blackwell kids?”

“No, we moved away when I was small,” Max answered before adding, “like, elementary school small.”

“Is this bringing back any memories, then? Like of your childhood and shit?” She rested her chin on one of the rock’s little planes.

“Some of them. Me and my dad used to fish together by that harbor. My mom would watch over me on the beach when I played. And- and, in the water, they would swim together as far out as Mom could go. It- It was beautiful.” Max looked to the horizon, probably sounding as wistful as she felt. The sun was going to set in a few hours, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that. They all were just running out of time. She looked down at Chloe again with a small smile. “But maybe I want to make new memories.”

“Then, why come back in the first place?” Chloe asked. “Not that your company isn’t awesome and all.”

“Mom wanted to be buried here, by the beach,” Max said, “where she met my dad.”

“Oh,” was all she could say.

“Yeah,” Max said.

“I-“ Chloe started, but Max shook her head. She would give her sympathies, like Aunt Linda and her husband, because Max ruined it, like she ruined everything.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Max said. “I- I shouldn’t have… I don’t even know you.”

“You could,” Chloe replied, quickly, and there was something in her voice that called to Max. “You could know me.” Her eyes were big and blue and she could see herself drowning in them.

Max crawled back from the edge and pushed herself up. “I should go. Thanks for the chat.”

She’d never drowned before.

“Shit, I didn’t mean to- _Wait!_ “

She wondered what it would feel like.

 

_“Never turn your back to the sea,” Mom told her. “Promise me, Max.”_


	2. 7:15 PM

_“I’m sorry about the car,” Max said that day. “That truck came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see it until it was too late.”_

_“I’ll make do. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Mom told her. She looked down at her watch. “I guess I’ll have to take the next bus, if I want to get to the appointment on time.”_

 

Max woke up from her nap with tear-stained cheeks and the overwhelming feeling of dread. The ceiling above her was white, and, when she sat up and looked around, the walls were white too, minus a few faint yellow brown stains that she hoped were from coffee. The hotel wasn’t anything fancy, just the one hotel right by the harbor. It didn’t have a pool or hot tub or anything, but it had running water, a warm bed, and complimentary breakfast.

She tugged at the neckline of her pajama shirt, uncomfortable with the sweat that pooled between cloth and skin. Uncomfortable seemed to be the word of the day. The arrival here, the lukewarm welcome, the phone call, the… girl. Max’s feet met the carpeting with a thud as she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t ran. Branching trees of possibilities lay before her: walking alongside the shore, slipping her hand in hers, taking her back to the hotel. Those were things she’d never been brave enough to do, with anyone. It was easier to not get close, to shield herself with shyness.

She’d kept the world at a distance since, well, she wasn’t sure when.

But she could _change_ that. She couldn’t go back and say those hello’s and get those phone numbers, or tell Mom all the things she never got to that all started with “I love you” and ended with “Please don’t take that eleven o’clock bus.” But she could fix what kept nagging at the back of her head.

The sandals slipped on easily. She grabbed her jacket and hotel key and slipped out of the room quietly, figuring there might be guests getting to bed.

The hotel wasn’t far from the beach, so the walk wasn’t long. During daylight hours, she could faintly see one of the cliffs from her hotel window. The biggest challenge was the dark cast over her surroundings; she nearly tripped a few times over uneven sidewalks and undetectable ledges. However, she forced herself to keep going, thinking of it as a test. Did she really want to change?

She thought of Chloe, the upturn of her lips and the lively look in her eyes. Oh, and the blue, blue hair. If Max could change, she could change for her. And, if anyone could change, it’d be Max Caulfield.

She didn’t even realize she’d arrived until she dropped her hotel key in the sand. She bent down to retrieve it, and that’s when she saw the sea.

There she was, her form bathed in moonlight as she swam. Somehow, Max didn’t expect Chloe to be more beautiful at night. She seemed made for the day, playful and brimming with energy. The light danced against Chloe’s pale skin, casting her in silver with deep shadows bordering each sliver of light. As she moved, the ray of light would shift and the rest would be left in shadows, like one minute that body part was there and the next it wasn’t. Max instinctively reached for her camera, before realizing she’d left it at the hotel.

“Back for more creeping, stalker?” Chloe called out.

Max laughed and walked towards the shoreline. She kicked her sandals off as Chloe did a fluid butterfly stroke against the current. She plopped herself down in the sand, her feet so close to the water she could _just_ feel how freezing it was without even getting wet.

“You just _had_ to have more of this, eh?” Chloe teased her, pausing her swimming to point down at herself.

Max rolled her eyes. “It was rude of me to leave, yeah.”

“Aw, well, it’s a good thing I stuck around, then,” Chloe said, arm lowering into the waters once more. “I’d hate to disrupt someone’s redemption arc.”

Max frowned. “Well, I don’t know about redemption. I’ll settle for not being such a dweeb.”

“You just need confidence,” Chloe stated, starting a backstroke. Max saw her breast and looked down, feeling ashamed she hesitated for even a moment. This wasn’t her flipping through some sleazy _magazine_ , for fuck’s sake. Chloe was real.

“You’re swimming _naked_?” Max said, eyes still glued to the grains of sand below her. “Isn’t it cold?”

But Chloe laughed at that. “ _Hella_ cold, but I don’t mind.” Her laughter soon died down. “What? You’ve never skinny-dipped?”

Max avoided the question. “I’m glad I found you before you froze to death.”

“I’m glad I’m so _cool_ that you came to find me,” and Max cringed at the pun.

“You’re not wrong,” Max had to admit, knees bent as she leaned back. Her fingers dug into the sand behind her, grains already getting stuck under her fingernails.

“Haven’t heard _that_ in a while,” Chloe muttered, at a volume that Max could just barely hear.

“I’m sure you’re right about a lot of things,” Max felt obligated to say.  “You were right about me.”

Chloe didn’t respond to that; she just looked at her. With that, Max was lost, adrift at sea. Chloe was watching her, and it may as well have been a lifetime. She struggled to think of anything else, since it all went back to Chloe and her sad, beautiful eyes.

Max finally cleared her throat, the near silence of the beach too much for her. “Anyways, I shouldn’t have left you here earlier while we were chatting. I’m sorry, Chloe.” It was so different at night, without the dozens of people enjoying the sunshine. She missed the idle chatter in the background, but there was something special about just her and Chloe alone at the beach.

“You’re here now,” She said. “Besides, everyone leaves.” Her hand halfheartedly splashed a bit of seawater.

Max didn’t know what to say to that. Thankfully, Chloe changed the subject before Max could say something stupid. “So, Max, you never told me where you arrived from. After Arcadia Bay, where did you go?”

“We moved north,” Max said, dragging her bent knees close to her chest. “We lived in Tacoma for a while, but, then, Mom got transferred to an office in Seattle. I went to college in Spokane, but I came back to Seattle to stay close to home.” She thought of all the moving trucks and cardboard boxes over the years, the change of addresses and long car rides. Max was never comfortable leaving places behind. She didn’t even like instant cameras being replaced by digital cameras. “Have you been here all your life?”

“Hopefully not _all_ my life,” Chloe said. “I’ve always wanted to get out of Oregon. My parents always planned to visit Europe, but we… never got the chance.”

“Maybe you will, someday,” Max assured her. “What country in Europe would you visit?” And, with that, they had opened the floodgates. Soon enough, they were sharing everything that came to mind. Their favorite foods (Chloe really liked breakfast food), their happiest memories (That time Chloe and her Dad found a new species of shrimp), what their dream job was (Chloe wanted to be a chef, then a scientist, then a rock star, now she just wants something that pays). Then, Max replied she wanted to be a photographer.

“No shit,” Chloe said, laying on her side in the shallower parts of the water, where it started to meet the shore, “Only hipsters and art nerds have polaroid cameras anymore, and you could model for “Artsy Hipster” magazine.” Max tried to focus on her face and not the body underwater.

“You’re one to talk. You could walk into any art class and find ten hipsters with dyed hair.” Not to mention her college’s GSA, which she’d only been brave enough to enter _once_ , after which she always meant to go back again but never got the chance before she graduated. She wasn’t even sure why it was such a big deal to her. “If I’m a hipster art nerd, you are, too.”

Chloe smiled directly at her. “So I’m in good company.” Something about that smile made Max’s throat dry.

Max leaned her chin on her knees as she maintained eye contact. “I agree.” Wait, no, “I mean- Not that I think I’m great company- I just- I meant I’m, _also_ , in good company. With you.” Meanwhile, Chloe was obviously trying to stifle her laughter. “What?”

“You’re such a dork,” Chloe chuckled.

“Yeah…” Max admitted, not able to help the grin plastered on her face. The silence stretched out for a few minutes, before Chloe started to frown and fidget. Max’s grin faded.

“Max, I have to confess something,” Chloe said, sitting up in the water. “I should have told you earlier, but I… I didn’t know how to bring it up without sounding like a big jackass.”

Max tried not to look at her, until she noticed Chloe’s arms crossed. She internally let out a sigh of relief. “What do you mean?”

“I wanted to tell you,” She answered, “I lost family too. My dad, actually. I…” She looked down, taking in shallow breaths. “I’m not trying to one-up you or anything. Just, trying to say I know what you’re going through.”

Max nodded, understanding what she meant. “I believe you.”

She lifted her head for direct eye contact.  “And you don’t have to go through this alone.” That was such a nice thought. She had to wonder who told Chloe that or whether Chloe came up with it on her own.

“I wish my mom’s relatives could be more like you,” Max said.

“But, it’s _your_ Mom that’s dead.” Chloe cocked her head to the side, bewildered, and Max realized she thought it was cute, like a puppy tilting their head. She puzzled whether she could explain her situation to Chloe, whether she’d get it.

“Yeah, my mom,” Max said, scooting forward without even realizing it, “but my aunts lost a sister. My grandmother lost a daughter.” _Dad lost a wife._ She looked down at her knees. “When she got pregnant with me, let’s just say they weren’t pleased. It caused a rift between them and her. And me.” She never heard stories of Mom’s childhood. Max felt bad for all the times as a kid when she pestered her mother about their family stories or what it was like when she was her age. She didn’t know, until she finally had to be told, _“It hurts her to think about how she lost her family.”_ But now Max lost _her_ , and she couldn’t just lock it away in the back of her mind and never speak of it again.

“When my dad died, my relationship with my mom didn’t survive it,” Chloe shared, and Max just wanted to hug her. “It really fell apart when she married probably the worst guy she could have moved onto.”

Max thought of her own dad, hands tightening into fists in the sand. “Did you ever make up with your mom?”

“Oh, we’re okay now,” but she hesitated. “We’re still not close, just that we’re not at eachother’s throats anymore.”

 _Chloe lost her mother too_ , Max thought, _just in a different way_. Hopefully, Max wouldn’t lose her dad that way, or any way. It made her heart ache just to think of it. “That’s awful,” was all she could say.  

“It’s just life,” Chloe argued. “I wish it didn’t have to be that way, but it is.” She leaned forward, just mere feet away from Max. “You know what the worst part is?”

Max swallowed, “What?”

“Sometimes, I’ll see something that reminds me of him, like a seashell he collected or a billboard with his favorite actor on it. And… it just…” Her mom. The beach. The sunshine. The fucking _laughter_.

Max’s eyes started to sting. “Takes you back?” She finished for her. Something hot and wet landed on her cheek.

Chloe just nodded, and – she might have been imagining it but – she thought she saw tears there, too. Max wondered how many hours she cried, when she found out. Did she cry harder than her? Was there even anyone there to dry her tears? She couldn’t take it anymore.

“I think I’ll try that skinny dipping now,” Max’s voice cracked as she unbuttoned her pajama top, hands trembling.

She wasn’t sure what she thought about Chloe seeing her naked. It gnawed at her nerves, the way buying something outside her budget did. What was worse, Chloe gawking at her or going out of her way _not_ to? She closed her eyes, not wanting to be disappointed with a Chloe that looked nor a Chloe that _didn’t_ look. Her hands pushed down the bottoms, and her legs climbed out from the pant legs. Next, her underwear. Her sandals were already half buried in the sand.

Then, she walked into the ocean with slow careful steps, until she was submerged. She let herself go, dipping down and returning to the surface with ease. She missed this. Max smiled serenely as she settled on her back, but Chloe could only stare in shock.

“Max, you’ve got fucking _fins_.”

Max could only laugh in reply. Her grey-green scales reflected moonlight.

 

_Max had joked, “Maybe I’ll take a cab to the beach while you’re gone.”_

_“Maxine! You know what happened last time,” Mom scolded._

_“Jeez, I know, Mom,” Max said. “I_ know _. It’s called a joke. Go catch your bus.”_


	3. 10:00 AM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was supposed to be done in 3 chapters, but I'm adding a fourth for an epilogue that I thought this fic really needed. The epilogue will have the resolution to the romance subplot.

_Her phone rang, and Max didn’t recognize the number. “Hi, is this Max Caulfield?” The woman sounded young, practically Max’s age._

_“Yeah, who’s this?” Max asked, hoping against everything that maybe it was a callback for one of the galleries she applied to. Anything that didn’t have to do with Mom._

_“I know we don’t know eachother well,” She said, “but after I heard what happened, I had to call. My name is Dana Ward. I’m your cousin. We’re planning a funeral for your mom back home, and I’d really like you to come.”_

 

Dad said later that she’d met Dana once when they were both very young; it was just that Max didn’t remember. The family had pressured Linda to avoid socializing with her estranged sister, which included keeping her young daughter away. Once, by chance, they saw Linda with her husband and daughter at a restaurant by the harbor and had a short chat. Max remembered the restaurant but nothing else.

So, she didn’t count that as their first meeting. She didn’t count the phone call, either, nor the brief welcome at the Ward household, which was mostly made up of Linda going over the details of the ceremony and her husband nodding along. Katherine and Dorothy lived next door and glowered at Max from their porch. The message was clear: _You’re not welcome here_. Aunt Linda said over and over not to worry about them, but, somehow, Max couldn’t put them out of mind.

That might have been why she was squeezing Chloe’s hand so tight as she walked up to the front table in front of the large canopy covering the event area. This was going to be her first real meeting with family today, over twenty years too late. Even so, something felt off about the event. It was so sunny past the shade of the canopy. _It should have rained today_ , she thought to herself. It didn’t seem fair that it’d be so sunny for her mother’s funeral. Arcadia Bay rained so frequently. Why couldn’t the place spare a few tears now?

“Uh, I’m Max Caulfield. Daughter of the deceased,” She added the last part quickly, seeing the small man take so long to find her name on the one-page guest list. “And my plus one.” She pointed to Chloe with her freehand. It wasn’t a tough sell to convince Chloe to come along. She understood that Max desperately needed someone at her side, in case Dad didn’t show.

They both dressed in black, albeit Chloe’s clothes had more of an edge to them. Her bracelet had those metal spikes she saw in those alternative apparel stores, and, instead of a skirt like Max, she wore black, ripped jeans. She looked like she just came back from the mosh pit. When he looked over Chloe with disapproval, Max suspected he might ask Chloe to change into something more appropriate. Maybe, he would even claim that he couldn’t let them in, and they could just leave. But he didn’t even comment on how Chloe was dressed. He simply sighed and said, “The seats are through there. My condolences.”

Max wanted to scream. He didn’t even _know_ her mom. Instead, she just nodded, teeth grinding behind closed lips.

After grabbing a service program (which at the very least acknowledged Mom as Vanessa _Caulfield_ instead of her maiden name, a small victory), Max and Chloe went through the opening in the stretchy retractable belt, the kinds they have for long lines outside movie theaters. It was early enough that there weren’t many guests yet. The tables and fold-up chairs were arranged underneath a large canopy. Each table had one of the flower arrangements Max picked out. Gardenia (Mom’s favorite), lilac Globe Amaranth, Lily of the Valley, even a couple cheery Gerbera in the mix. Chloe pointed to the single table without one, which instead bore the sign “Reserved for Family.” Max frowned, _Of course_.

_You’re not welcome here._

“You’re family, right?” Chloe said when Max didn’t sit down. Max’s hands clutched the band of her bag, fiddling with a stray thread.

“They wouldn’t want me there,” Max explained, “My mom’s side of the family hate my guts, remember?” They had stayed up all night, just spending time with eachother and sharing all the things they weren’t brave enough to share with anyone else. She hoped Chloe remembered all of it.

“Fuck that,” She argued so easily. “You deserve to be sitting here as much as they do. Besides,” She smirked mischievously. “Don’t you _want_ to see them look like idiots when they make a scene over a vendetta _that_ stupid?” Chloe was certainly persuasive. “ _No one_ will think berating the daughter of the deceased is a good idea.”

“You have a point,” Max said, smiling right back. She pulled out one of the chairs and sat down, hanging her bag on the chair by its shoulder strap. Chloe took the one next to her, thankfully, and, soon after, the Wards arrived. They all three beamed when they saw Max, but it looked false to her, like they had to force themselves to get through the awkwardness of it all. Behind them was Katherine with her mother.

Max’s stomach dropped. She found Chloe’s hand under the table.

“Maxine! You look beautiful,” Linda greeted, leaning down to kiss Max’s cheek. Max was tempted to remind her that it’s _Max_ , not Maxine, but she didn’t bother. “Oh- You brought a friend! _Lovely_...” The forced smile stretched even farther, which almost looked like a cringe. Max tried to smile back, but she suspected hers looked more like a cringe, too.

“I’m Chloe,” She extended the hand that wasn’t holding Max’s towards Linda. When Linda didn’t take it, Dana did instead. Chloe and Max exchanged a glance.

“It’s nice to meet you, Chloe,” Dana said with a smile that actually looked genuine. She looked to Max with warm brown eyes, the hearth to Arcadia Bay’s ocean. “I have to thank you again for coming, Max. I know that we can’t make up for over twenty years in a couple days, but maybe this will be the beginning of something new.” Max wondered if she’d rehearsed it before coming here, like her phone call. It seemed from the heart, though, which she had to appreciate.

Dana was a good person, she decided.

As Linda and her family took their seats across from Max and Chloe, Max was finally face to face with who she’d been dreading since the beginning. Their eyes seemed to be avoiding her, which somehow made her feel all the worse. “Hi,” she attempted, heart thudding in her chest.

Instead of answering her, Aunt Katherine turned to her sister. “Linda, what’s that _thing_ doing here?” Max’s lips trembled, trying to will herself to say something. _Look at me when you’re talking about me._ But nothing came out.

Since the rest of the guests were arriving, too, she found her eyes searching the faces for her dad. She didn’t know what she was hoping for. Maybe, she just wanted him to save her, like when she was little and tried to put a starfish in her mouth.  

“Don’t you remember? We invited her. She’s Vanessa’s daughter Maxine. I know your memory isn’t quite what it used to be, but…” Linda explained, seemingly oblivious.

“We’ve told you before that we don’t want that _demon spawn_ here,” their mother Dorothy said primly. “Especially not at the table for _family_.” Max noticed that not even Linda was looking at her anymore, as if pretending she didn’t exist.

Max leaned closer to Chloe, who was fuming like she was ready to throw punches. Max gave her hand another squeeze as the argument continued. A quick glance around told her that guests were starting to sneak looks over at the family table, probably overhearing them. _Look at me_.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this at our sister’s _funeral_!” Katherine said, and Max wanted to throw a punch in, too. At least then, Katherine would have to acknowledge her existence. “Always making things difficult for everyone. You should be _ashamed_.” _Look at me. Look at me._

Linda sighed. “Kat, dear, please calm down. You’re getting hysterical.”

_Just look at me. I’m right here. I’m right here!_

“Hell yeah, you tell her,” Chloe encouraged sarcastically, probably expecting more righteous anger. Once again, she wasn’t wrong. Linda should have been angrier. Max should have been angrier. This wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. Max resisted the urge to grab Chloe, leave this place, and never look back.

“Hysterical?!” Katherine repeated. “Why wouldn’t I be? When you invited the _monsters_ that took Vanessa from us?”

Dana gasped, “Kat, that’s enough!”

Chloe started to stand, eyes wild with rage. “The only _monsters_ here are-“

“Chloe, wait!” Max said suddenly, grasping Chloe’s shoulder. “I can do this.”

In response, Chloe’s anger melted in favor of a nod and an encouraging smile, and it was all she could do to not kiss her right then.

There Max stood up from her seat, hands fidgeting before finally hanging by her sides. She swallowed, gathering her bravery by the seams. “D-do you think you’re the only one who _misses_ her? Who feels… hurt and angry by all this?” Max asked. “I spent twenty-four years of my life with her, without even a single phone call from you.” Then, she looked at the rest of them as a whole, not even caring anymore who was looking. “Or you, or you, or even _you_. But Mom would have welcomed any of you back into her life, _our life_ , in a heartbeat. Why? Because she loved all of us so much.”

In the back, a new attendee came through the entrance. Max smiled, the tears stringing her eyes. “ _That’s_ what this day is about, that she loved us. _All_ of us. No matter what we are. No matter what we did or didn’t do. S-so we should spend this day loving her, too.” She stopped to wipe her tears. “Hi, Dad, you took your time getting here, didn’t you?” She laughed through her tears, and some of the guests followed her lead, a wave of chuckles rippling through her audience as he made his way to the table.

He wrapped his arms around her. “Max, I’m so proud of you. If she was listening, she would be, too.” He didn’t have to tell her who he meant by _she_. Max let go of Chloe’s hand to return the hug she desperately needed.

Past his arms, she saw Aunt Katherine crying in Linda’s embrace and Grandma Dorothy making her way to leave. She thought she should have felt something about that, maybe sorrow or regret, but she realized that it no longer mattered. She said what she _needed_ to say, and not for Aunt Linda or Katherine or even Chloe but for herself.

“What took you so long to get here?” She asked, voice slightly muffled by his shirt. She pulled away then, her hand finding Chloe’s once more.

He sighed, patting her on the shoulder. “I had to tie up some loose ends back home: the death certificate, her finances, her last will and testament. This was so last minute that I didn’t know if I’d make it in time. But I’m glad I did.” He then added, “We should go for a swim later. I think we both need one.”

Chloe and Max exchanged a meaningful look.

“Only if Chloe comes with,” Max said, and, after a moment of stunned silence, he seemed to understand because he nodded, wearing the biggest smile he’d had in years. With that, Dad and Max sat together at the table with the sign “Reserved for Family” for once feeling like one of the family. No one objected to this.

Once the priest arrived, the funeral service went off without a hitch. Chloe held Max’s hand the whole time, everyone complimented her on the flower arrangements, the sun was shining on outside the canopy, and even Aunt Katherine left them alone. _It’s funny how life turns out_ , Max thought to herself, trying her best to stifle her smile. This is what Mom would have wanted.

 

_“I don’t know,” Max had replied over the phone. “It seems like a long way to travel just to spend a day with people who hate me and my dad.”_

_But Dana insisted, “I don’t hate you. My mom doesn’t hate you. And they all just need time. Your mom would have wanted you to be with family, right?”_

_She gave up, having a suspicion that this Dana was used to winning arguments. “Fine, I’ll go, but I really don’t think I’ll have a good time at all.”_

_“Max, it’s a funeral,” She said, “No one’s expecting you to have a good time.”_


	4. 2:50 PM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is our epilogue. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

They were on the beach, the sun shining bright across the blue canvas that stretched from horizon to horizon. Outward projected brilliant rays that filtered everything in a glowing yellow, and, in times like these, everyone’s favorite color is of daffodils and dandelions. But Chloe shone brighter, the light illuminating her blue, blue hair. Max reached out to brush a lock of Chloe’s hair behind her ear and decided that, if she had a favorite color, then it had to be blue. Like the sky. Like the ocean. Like her eyes.

Chloe paused to blink, a brief flicker in her never-ending gaze. It was as slow as their stroll, as their arms when they raised to point to some cloudy shape floating above them (“That one kinda looks like a dick.” “Don’t be so- Oh, I see it.”). Even the ocean’s pace between approaching and receding relaxed. Everything was slow, though Max would have preferred “steady,” because they were both taking their time.  

Max took this chance to adjust the strap on her bikini and the way her messenger bag hung from her side. “Thank you, for being there for me today. I-” She let out a nervous laugh, then, pushed the brown bangs out of her face. “Sorry, I never know what to say in these situations.” She felt unusually brave that day, but that didn’t make her any more a wordsmith.

“Me neither,” Chloe admitted, rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly. “But all that happened wasn’t because of me, Max, it was you.” Her hands were on Max’s shoulders, then, and Max felt a shiver run through her. “You really let them have it! It was amazing.”

“I guess it was,” Max realized, as Chloe let go, and, for a mere minute, they were both quiet. Side-by-side, they resumed their pace. The only audible sounds were the seagulls and the ocean, and Max wondered if Mom was looking down on them, somewhere, somehow. She would have liked Chloe, she decided.

“So, I guess you’re going to be leaving town, then?” Chloe brought up, the spark in her eyes starting to fade. Max could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, knowing what Chloe wanted to hear. It was what she wanted, too.

“I could be convinced to stay…” Max hinted, coy and playful, “for the right reason.”

As if in answer, Chloe brought her smooth lips against hers, wrapping her arms around her bare waist, beaded with sweat and seawater. It was chaste at first, barely more than a peck, but Max moved her lips hard and fast, wanting to make the most of it. Chloe got the message, since she picked up the pace until the sounds of their kissing drowned out Max’s heartbeat. Max found herself struggling to breathe before she found a safe rhythm of kissing, breathing, and kissing again.

Chloe tasted like the lemonade they shared an hour earlier, tart and sweet and fresh. And she was bold in her kissing, just like her attitude. Her shoulders were bony and hard and her neck willowy as Max’s arms wrapped around her in kind. There was so much more to find out, she realized, so much Chloe to explore.

When she released her, their foreheads rested against eachother, arms still clinging to bare, seawater-stained skin. Somehow, they were barely strangers, but it felt like they knew eachother all their lives - or at least wanted to. While Max had always been an idealist, even she knew that they were going too far, too fast.

Maybe that didn’t matter right now.

 _We can make it work_.

“You are,” Max breathed heavily, “ _very_ persuasive.”

She rested her hand on Chloe’s cheek and gently went in for another kiss because they were young, and slowed their pace because they had decided to take their time. The feel of her lips was still as smooth. Chloe still tasted like lemonade, and Max’s favorite color was still blue. 

When they finally parted again, Chloe said, out of breath, “Take a picture; it’ll last longer.”

So Max did. 


End file.
